


Catch and Release (and Catch Again)

by luceluceluceluce



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Costume Swap, Identity Reveal, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, More tags to be added with the next chapter, Spideypool - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-10 01:00:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16460453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luceluceluceluce/pseuds/luceluceluceluce
Summary: Spider-man's attempt at stopping a bank heist is interrupted by Deadpool, resulting in both of them getting taken hostage by Electro.Stripped of his mask, web-shooters, and everything else, escape turns out to be the least of Peter's problems... especially when Deadpool gets a hold of his outfit.





	Catch and Release (and Catch Again)

**Author's Note:**

> It has literally been years since my last fic but goddammit, this pair needs more content and someone has to write it. As usual, it got way longer and more plot-heavy than I anticipated.
> 
> Just FYI, I'm leaning closer to the comic lore than the MCU, especially in terms of Electro's abilities and Peter's suit (and age).

Peter picked through the frozen section of the bodega, trying to find a dinner option that was cheap, fast, and halfway edible. He tapped his foot mindlessly to the alt-J song in his headphones and yawned. The last few nights had been busy for Spider-man. Nothing major, but enough stick-ups and break-ins that he’d been out patrolling later than usual, and the result was even less sleep than he normally managed to squeeze in. Maybe he’d cut his patrol early tonight and actually get a decent night’s rest. 

Peter had just decided that instant lasagna didn’t sound completely terrible when the music in his ears was cut off suddenly. There was a static hiss as the police scanner that he’d integrated into his phone crackled to life. Peter froze with his hand inside the freezer as he listened - a hostage situation at a bank in Washington Heights, and not just any robbers - it seemed like Electro was involved.

Peter cursed quietly, shoving the lasagna back into the freezer and rushing out onto the street. He ducked into the nearest alley and behind a dumpster, ignoring the annoyed scuttle of rats as he interrupted their garbage feast.

“Why does this always happen when I’m on the other side of the city?” he muttered, crouching low and stripping as quickly as he could to reveal the Spider-suit beneath his hoodie and jeans. After the first few times getting caught half-naked in alleys, he’d given up on carrying the suit around in his backpack and basically just replaced his usual underwear with the spandex. Honestly, it was almost comfier than boxers.

He pulled his mask over his face, stuffed his bag as inconspiciously as he could under the dumpster- trying not to think about how terrible it would probably smell by the time picked it up- and took off at a run.

Even though he swung as fast as he could, the doors of the bank were already barricaded by the time Peter swung into view. The first few cops were already outside, standing around anxiously and corralling civilians away from the scene as they waited for backup. A helicopter circled uselessly overhead. Peter ignored them all, swinging over their heads to land lightly on the roof. He crouched and glanced around just to make sure he was alone, but his spidey sense was quiet. 

Peter allowed himself a brief moment to steady his breathing. He hadn’t heard any reports of gunshots or struggle on the way- he’d made it in time. He stood and hurried to nearest air vent, slamming the casing open with a single kick. A cramped, empty shaft stretched down into darkness.

“You think they’d learn to block these off,” Peter sighed, slipping inside. The interior was cramped and nearly pitch-black, but with his abilities it didn’t take Peter long to find an interior vent. He peered through the slats- it looked like he was looking down into some kind of office, dark and empty. A large desk took up most of the space, a plate-glass window at the front of the room obscured by shutters. Gritting his teeth, Peter slammed the heel of his palm into the vent. It popped open with a clang that made him wince, and he hesitated another moment to make sure that nobody was coming to investigate before dropping lightly into the room.

Now that he was inside, Peter could pick up faint voices filtering through the floor below him- the sobbing of hostages and gruff commands of various henchmen. Seemed like Electro was tired of working alone- just his luck. 

Peter slid to the door and pressed his ear against it, listening intently. He didn’t hear anyone close to the opposite side, but there could be- 

His spidey-sense spiked suddenly and Peter dove under the desk just milliseconds before there was a loud metal clang and a heavy figure plummeted from the ceiling vent, landing in a heap of red and black leather on the floor. Peter didn’t even have time to react before the figure sprang to its feet, twin katanas drawn.

“En guarde!” came Deadpool’s familiar, singsong voice. He whipped his head around the room, ready for attack. 

Peter sighed with a mixture of relief and frustration. From his hiding spot, Peter could see that Deadpool’s chest was criss-crossed with various ammo belts and holsters. He looked more prepared to mow down an army than a handful of bank robbers.

“Hey-” Peter started, straightening from behind the desk. Deadpool whirled on him before he could say another word, katana freezing inches from his throat. Peter automatically flung his hands up.

“Whoa, stop! It’s me!”

Deadpool’s eyes went comically wide behind his mask, and he immediately moved from pointing the blade at Peter to slapping his hands over his cheeks.

“Oh-em-gee! Spidey! I haven’t seen you in aaaaaages!”

Peter grit his teeth because, well, that had been intentional. Deadpool was definitely skilled at what he did, and had saved Peter’s ass more times than he wanted to admit. But the merc’s abilities hardly ever seemed worth the risk of chaos and destruction he left behind. Although Peter was sure mentioning that would get them nowhere.

“How did you even fit through the fent?” he asked instead. “It was a tight fit for me, and you’re…” Peter gestured vaguely at the entirety of the man’s broad frame. His shoulders must be at least twice the width of Peter’s, the leather of his suit stretching across his broad chest in a way that Peter’s spandex never did.

“Oh, my saucy little tarantula,” Deadpool winked, finally resheathing his katana. “You know I just can’t resist a good, tight fit. Besides, nothing can stand between me and a day that needs to be saved!”

“Well,” Peter tried to keep his voice casual rather than annoyed, “there’s hostages downstairs, so I don’t want to do anything that could-”

“Don’t you worry your gorgeous little buns, Spidey!” Deadpool bounced on the balls of his feet and clapped, the noise making Peter wince again and glance toward the door. It was honestly shocking that nobody had heard them yet. “I’m amazing at hostage situations. I’ve captured and held hundreds of hostages!”

“That’s not what I-” Peter tried again, but Deadpool was already pushing past him, throwing open the door without hesitation. “Deadpool!” Peter hissed desperately, but the man was already disappearing down the hallway, leaving Peter no choice but to hurry after him.

Thankfully Deadpool paused at the end of the hallway, where a wide, ornate staircase led down to the main floor. A pair of masked henchmen could be seen at the base of the stairs, facing the front door. Deadpool turned to glance back at Peter, putting an exaggerated finger to his lips before making his way downstairs- more quietly than Peter would have expected, honestly. It wasn’t until Deadpool reached out toward the first guard’s head, positioning himself to snap the man’s neck cleanly, that Peter hurled himself forward. 

“Deadpool, no!”

The guards whipped around in unison, but not quite fast enough. There was a sickening crack as Deadpool twisted the first man’s neck around and he dropped like a stone. The second guard reached toward his gun, but Peter shot a glob of webbing that pinned the man’s hand to the banister. Deadpool took that moment to strike, his katana cutting cleanly through the guard’s head. Peter gaped in horror.

“No- no! Why the hell did you do that?” He whirled to Deadpool, hating the way his voice was shaking. Those men had only been sentries- they didn’t deserve death, and certainly not a death that he had helped cause. “I had him covered! There was no reason to kill him!”

“Ah, shit.” Deadpool raised his hands in surrender. “I forgot! I’m sorry, Spidey-kins, I didn’t mean to. But you know, they just-- duck!”

Peter reacted instinctively, his spidey sense guiding him as he dove to the side just in time to dodge a hail of bullets. He barely managed to steady himself before tumbling down the stairs, turning in time to see half a dozen more henchmen approaching- and behind them, the yellow and steel suit of Electro, his arm pulled back and electricity crackling through the air around him.

“Spidey!” Deadpool screamed, but there was no time to move before a blast of electricity pushed him off his feet and into darkness.

Peter wasn’t sure how much time passed- he slipped in and out of consciousness, always surfacing to voices, motion, and the scent of burnt flesh. When he finally woke fully, the motion had stopped and the air was musty and quiet. Peter groaned low, squeezing his eyes shut against a dull, throbbing ache in his head. His entire body felt exhausted and itchy in a way that meant his healing factor was working overtime. The hair that fell over his forehead smelled singed.

Wait- his hair? Peter felt adrenaline shoot through his body and his eyes snapped open. He wasn’t wearing his mask- in fact, he wasn’t wearing anything at all. 

He was in a small, dark room, standing with his back pressed up against a thick concrete pillar. His entire body was restrained, down to his ankles and fingers, by a frankly unnecessary amount of metal cable. It cut uncomfortably into his bare skin, barely even allowing his feet to touch the ground. Some kind of metal device was attached to the cables by his knees, thrumming with electricity.

Peter groaned and let his head thud back against the pillar. This was bad- really, really bad. Who had already seen his face? Had they taken pictures? Taken hair samples, blood samples? Peter strained against the cables, but even with his strength, they absolutely wouldn’t budge. He didn’t even have his web shooters.

“You know, I’ve thought about getting tied up by Cable before, but this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

Peter’s head whipped toward the source. Almost ten feet to his left, another pillar held a similar set up to his own- a generous coil of cable and a large metal box binding a nude man. The man was entirely bald, his skin pockmarked and mottled with scarring- though the most horrifying part was his shoulder, which was almost entirely black with fresh, fiery burns. Peter resisted cringing- he had seen Deadpool’s skin before, but he looked even worse than usual. He was speaking before he had a chance to second-guess himself.

“Deadpool! Are you okay?”

Deadpool’s eyes flicked to him- and then lingered up and down his body, making Peter resist the urge to squirm. “Spidey, you’re up! I was getting lonely. Did you know you talk in your sleep? It’s the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard.”

Peter realized, belatedly, that Deadpool could also see his bare face. Fuck, shit, fuck. He shut his eyes tightly, mind racing and breaths coming fast. His bare face felt even more vulnerable than his bare groin.

“Hey, my scruffy little tarantula, don’t panic!” Peter kept his eyes squeezed shut, though he could hear Deadpool shifting in his restraints. “If it’s your identity you’re worried about, the secrets of your gorgeous visage are safe with me. Even though I gotta say, jesus, you look even younger than you sound. Are you even legal?”

“Yes,” Peter snapped, finally forcing his eyes to reopen. His heart was still stuttering desperately, but he managed to shove the panic down for the time being. He could have a crisis once they got out of here. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Well, seems like Electro upgraded his suit with some kinda very, very, very big explodey-cannon. Powerful enough to knock even yours truly out for a sec.” Deadpool tried to shrug against his restraints, the metal creaking in complaint. “And then they tossed us in a van and dragged us down here into Generic Secret Underground Lair. I don’t think Electro expected to get company- at least not the superhero kind of company. I don’t think they really know what to do with us. But for now, they decided to tie us up in some shitty shibari and booby-trap the cords.”

“Booby-trap?” Peter echoed. Deadpool nodded, jerking his head toward the thrumming metal box.

“Yup. Zapped me real good when I tried to break out.” 

Peter glanced again to the large swath of blackened, singed skin across Deadpool’s shoulder and chest. If he focused, he could visibly see the tissue healing slowly, being replaced by the normal mottle of Deadpool’s pale skin. 

“The good news,” Deadpool continued, “is that they left the hostages behind, since I guess now we’re the hostages. Ooh, and the even better news is that I finally get a front-row seat at Spidey’s gun show!” He nodded meaningfully toward Peter’s body, his eyes lingering at his waist. “I’ve always wondered what you had going on under all that spandex, but I guess I should raise my standards because even I didn’t expect this.”

Peter tried, and failed, to resist the urge to glance self-consciously at his own body. He was covered in soot and sweat, the restraints already leaving red marks striped across his skin. Most embarrassingly of all, his cock hung limply in front of him, completely exposed to Deadpool’s stare. Peter felt a sudden, wild rush of embarrassment at his softness, before realizing that it was Deadpool ogling him and that being soft was the best possible case scenario.

As if sensing his discomfort, Deadpool spoke again, voice light. “Hey, you ain’t got nothing to be embarrassed about! Most of the population are growers, not showers. It’s not like that suit leaves too much to the imagination, anyway. Have you heard of a jockstrap?”

“Obviously I have, it’s just… I wear my suit all day under my clothes. It chafes.” Peter stared resolutely at the ceiling, determined to not look over at Deadpool. “Also, stop looking at my dick. I’m serious.”

“Really, Spidey, you look above average! Now, personally, I just happen to be a grower and a shower, but we can’t all be so hashtag-blessed.”

Peter shot a glare at Deadpool, and that was a mistake. He couldn’t stop his curiosity from sending his gaze flicking down for only a moment, to discover that- holy shit. For once, Deadpool wasn’t kidding.

The man’s cock hung semi-hard between his thighs, not only long but thick. Peter had never considered how Deadpool’s scarring would affect his genitals, but the ridges and grooves of scar tissue that covered the man’s body continued along the entire shaft. The size combined with the texture reminded Peter more of some kind of ribbed-for-pleasure dildo than a realistic human cock. 

“Tut-tut, Spidey!” At Deadpool’s voice, Peter immediately snapped his eyes up to the ceiling again, but it was too late. His cheeks burned. “My nipples are up here!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Peter squeezed his eyes shut, his anger and frustration growing by the moment. “Fuck, this is literally the worst possible scenario.”

“Hey now, you’re marketed toward kids too young to know that kind of language,” Deadpool chastised. 

Peter ignored his nonsense, glaring at the ceiling and trying to control the panic that was rising again in his throat. The silence stretched for a long moment.

“Hey,” Deadpool said, quieter than before. “I’m sorry for killing those guys. We’ll be out of here soon- Electro isn’t close to being a big enough baddie to hold both of us for long.”

Peter sighed, forcing some of the tension in his gut to uncoil. “Yeah, I know. It’s fine. I mean- not the killing random people. Don’t do that. But it’s fine.”

Deadpool perked up again immediately. “Great! And hey, if you want, I can kill every single person who’s seen your face in order to protect your super-top-secret identity. Including myself! Even though that won’t last very long.”

“It’s fine,” Peter repeated, “No mass-murder or suicide necessary. It’s not the first time someone’s gotten a look under my mask- I’ll figure it out.”

“Standing offer!” Deadpool chirped. “And boy oh boy, if we’re here for much longer something else is going to become a standing offer. Being tied up next to Spidey is definitely doing it for me.”

“Oh my god,” Peter muttered, wishing he could bury his face in his hands. His shoulders were starting to cramp from being held upright, and the chill of the room was making goosebumps pop up along his arms. “I’ve never been in a less sexy situation in my life.”

“Liar, I’ve seen you hanging out with Iron Man.” Deadpool cackled at his own joke before shifting purposefully. “Ooh, I shouldn’t have followed that train of thought. See what I mean? Grower!”

Peter glanced over before he fully realized what Deadpool even meant, and- oh. The man was fully erect, his dick sticking straight out from his torso in a way that would have been comical if it wasn’t so impressive. The head had swollen to a satisfying-looking bulb, veins rising along the shaft making it even more textured than before. While Peter’s sexual experience was admittedly limited, he wasn’t a complete blushing virgin- he’d hooked up with men a few times, but nobody had been packing anything remotely close to the porn-star cock in front of him now. Hell, the dildo that Peter kept shamefully stashed at the bottom of his sock drawer couldn’t rival the size of Deadpool.

“Ooooh,” Deadpool crooned, “And I guess you really are a shower.”

Horrified, Peter became aware of his own slowly hardening erection. “Don’t! Oh, god, don’t look over here.”

“Hell yeah, keep talking, Webs.” Deadpool thrust out his hips as best he could in his bindings, which wasn’t very much. “It’s so much better now that I can match that voice to that twinky little face of yours.”

Peter squeezed his eyes shut and thought desperately about algebra, wrinkled grandmas, anything-

“And that cute little blush! Fuck, Spidey, I try not to be a total creep but you make it difficult when you’ve got such a cute little cock-sucking mouth-”

“Shut UP!” Peter screamed, but his erection wasn’t listening, his cock beginning to throb uncomfortably from the lack of friction against it. His entire body felt suddenly over-sensitive, the damp room growing unbearably claustrophobic. Peter wanted to scream. He hadn’t felt so physically out of control since he first became Spiderman, his mind several steps behind his body. He stared helplessly at Deadpool, whose eyes were still tracing him- not just his cock, but his legs, the slope of his spine against the concrete, his bare neck and collarbones. Peter let out a strange, high-pitched whine, and Deadpool’s mouth dropped open slightly.

Before he could say anything, there was a loud slam of metal. Electro strode into the room, his aura of electricity enough to make the air crackle and Peter’s hair stand on end.

“Hello, boys,” he said. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

Deadpool sighed. “Coitus interruptus- gets you every time.”


End file.
